


When Winter comes.

by Victoire_Diego



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Wuthering Heights - All Media Types, 상속자들 | The Heirs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-26 18:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15668796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victoire_Diego/pseuds/Victoire_Diego
Summary: "Never give up anything for love, she'll tell him, one night, at Rachel's grand party for Hyo Shin sunbae's return. She'll be half drunk and happier than he's seen her recently, and he wouldn't mean to end up there at all, next to her, like they're all a part of the same social circle, like she fits in there now, like love actually makes the world go round, if it feels like giving up, it's not love anyway."~excerpt from 상속자들 | The Heirs fanfiction piece which I unfortunately forgot the title of which served as inspiration for this one. So, thankyou to the person who wrote it.





	1. Good enough.

"So, all these years..."  
" I did what I had to to survive."  
She scoffed then, "Survival?! You're honestly making this about survival!?Isn't revenge a more apt term? After all, isn't it a dish best served cold?!"  
"You wouldn't understand," was the ever calm reply of her butler. The words seemed to anger her, "Then please explain to me so I would have the honor of understanding as well! You've served me well enough all these years. Do please indulge me this last time!!"  
"Do not presume to know me. You are but a girl who is used to getting her own way...very like your mother in that regard," he added with derision.  
She stepped back as if struck, face ashen, lip trembling. Then, with a very impatient sigh, the butler sat back on the great wing back, looking for once the legitimate heir he claimed to be.  
"I neither have the time nor the patience to suffer through another of your tantrums. God forbid, you didn't give up that particular habit after all those years in that God-forsaken boarding school! Why my father sent you, I shall never know."  
"Your father..?!"  
"He is my father not yours, do you know? His second wife-your lovely mother was never particularly faithful. He always knew you aren't his. Took a longer time for that woman to realise he was on to her." He proceeded to calmly remove his gloves while her entire world collapsed around her.  
"I..I-I don't believe you. He always told me I was his little girl. He loved me... He.." her head was shaking in disbelief. He watched her with shrewd eyes, this pampered princess that sooner or later was bound to face reality. "He did, in his own way but you can't begrudge an old man his whims. He knew you weren't his and that was all that mattered in the end."

And so it was. She had never imagined things turning out the way they had-where once she had longed for a family to belong to. An absent mother and an ailing father made for a very lonely childhood. Still, it must have been harder for him-to have been forced to live in the shadows- never acknowledged, forever humiliated. She never could imagine the extent of the depravity and evil her mother had instigated, to have wrecked a marriage and wreaked havoc on a young boy's life. Her mother had never been a good person. It took a long time for her to acknowledge that fact, much less accept it. It took longer to stop blaming herself, for failing to make her mother love her; for never being good enough. Maybe, she had been a good person once, a long time ago, maybe she too, had been a victim of circumstance and life had embittered her and turned her into this cold jaded person incapable of any maternal feeling. When she was younger, she'd like to think that her mother had her heart broken and that is what made her so distant and cold. She thought she had come to terms with how their lives had turned out. She had a doting albeit sickly father-although she wondered if she could still call him that now. And yet, despite her death, her mother had managed to tarnish yet another thing in her life.

The truth had been a swift but necessary blow. First, there had been anger and denial and disbelief and fear in equal amounts. Then she woke up one morning and realized that for the first time, she had true freedom. It had taken several days of locked doors, barely eaten meals and long days and longer nights but when it happened, she had her bag packed and her head held high. For what would be the last time, she stepped out the door to what had been more of a prison than a home for her. 

 

A note is left on the desk by the window.

Two words were written on it.


	2. No Cinderella story.

"If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it."  
The declaration startled her. It had been a few years since she's heard that voice. Dread and fear made her hands tremble. She shrugged off one shoulder trying to be nonchalant. He wasn't discouraged by her silence but then again, he never was, even when he served as her butler all those years ago. "The pampered princess reduced to rags, working in a coffee shop. Quite a change to the typical rags to riches story, if I do say so myself."  
Years ago, her temper would have gotten the best of her but now, she just stared at him. "What would you like to order?" She could see that he's a little unnerved by her reaction even though he hid it every well. But she'd grown up alongside him and you notice things about people you've lived with. A twitch of the eyebrow, his thumb rubbing against his middle finger.  
He placed an order and proceeded to sit at a table that faced the counter.  
Soon enough, the usual customers and her coworkers started buzzing about the man in the suit who had been sitting in the same seat for almost an hour now. They weren't used to such a customer before so the excitement was understandable.

When closing time came and he still hadn't left, she shrugged off her apron and settled on the seat opposite his.  
"What's this about then?" she said after clearing her throat, trying not to let her nervousness show.   
He observed her carefully before saying,  
"Father passed away three days ago. He never woke up from the coma."

It shouldn't be as shocking as it felt then; she was fully aware of her step father's condition when she left. It shouldn't hurt as much as it did. She gritted her teeth, her nails digging crescents into her palms. She nodded once, not trusting her voice.  
He continued to observe her and his voice was almost sympathetic when he said, "I was informed by his doctors that he died peacefully."  
Another nod.  
"The funeral is this Saturday. It would be necessary for you to attend."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) This is my first fanfiction ever so it will most definitely be less than sub-par but amateurs have to start somewhere, right? Anyhow, this piece is inspired by a culmination of works from Korean dramas to Kuroshitsuji and somehow Emily Bronte's characters got caught up in the mix. So, I apologise if the plot is not coherent enough. Any and all feedback and constructive criticisms are welcomed and appreciated.  
> Ps:Thankyou for taking the time to read this.  
> ~Tory.


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